Eduardo and Me
by captainofyourship
Summary: My best friend is gay. He is so gay I have invented a new category of homosexuality for him - gayER. He and I have the same taste in men. So what happens when we both meet the guy of our dreams? Bella, Edward and Jacob - OOC


Characters property of SM. Please don't tell her what I've done with them.

**"SORT OF BEAUTIFUL CHALLENGE" Entry**

**Title: Me and Eduardo**

**Your pen name(s): captainofyourship**

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**http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2046940/**

**DISCLAIMER: Twilight characters and related likeness owned by Stephenie Meyer, Little Brown Publishing. No profits have been received in the production of this piece.**

ME AND EDUARDO

My best friend is gay. He is so gay I have created and named a special category of homosexuality for him - gay_er_. He is also a hopeless romantic, and has yet to give his front end or his back end away to anybody as he's waiting for Mr Right. I fully support him in this decision to save himself for true love, because that's what I'm doing too. Sometimes, I wish he could be the one for me, because I do love him, but that kind of thing between the two of us is never going to happen. My dad knows we sometimes sleep in each other's beds, and even though my dad would shoot any male who came within a hundred miles of my bedroom, he's okay with Edward. I call him Eduardo because that's gayer. Even my Dad knows I am safe from Eduardo's attentions, and my dad is pretty conservative.

Eduardo wakes up next to me with a boner sometimes, which is disturbing for him, and disturbing and just a little nerve-wracking for me, and I've said, "Go straight, already, and be my boyfriend," just to see how he'll respond, but he hugs me and says, "Bella, I would if I could, honestly, but your boobies just turn me right off. No offence. They're lovely boobies."

And then I punch him and he hugs me some more, and I punch him again and he's so muscular and hard it doesn't do a thing to him.

He's an absolute party boy, always on the lookout for candy to perve at, and I go with him sometimes as we have a pact. We've agreed neither of us will ever go off with anyone else while we're out together, unless the other one says it's absolutely fine. Sometimes we go to gay bars and look at gay boys for him, and sometimes we go to straight bars and look at straight boys for me. We have the same taste, we both like our men big and handsome...but to tell the truth, straight boys make me really nervous. I just don't know what to say to them. I'm far more comfortable around Eduardo.

One Saturday I'm supposed to meet him, and I'm running late, because I often run late. There are some things I'm very good at, and running late is one of them.

I'm nearly ready when I get a text from Eduardo saying, "Get2me asap. HE's here!"

He who? How am I supposed to know? I ring Edward, hopping on one foot trying to get my sneaker on without untying the laces.

"Hello darling, I'm looking forward to your company this evening. What time are you planning to join me?" he purrs.

"Why are you talking in that dumb voice? What was with the panic message? Who's there?" I ask.

"Lovely. I'm keeping your seat warm. You'll be here soon then?" he says, still in the voice, which I find seductive and have told him in the past he's not allowed to use on me.

"Oh, I get it. Whoever it is is right there and you can't talk about him. Well, I'll be there as soon as I can to check out your mystery person. Is it a DB?" This is our private code for Dream Boy.

"Yes, hurry now," he replies.

"I know already he won't be good enough for you," I say, having fallen down. I don't know how come it's so much easier to get your shoes off with the laces still tied than on again. Someone should do something about that.

I'm at the bar about fifteen minutes later, since it's close to my apartment, and there's dear Eduardo, wearing his Debussy t-shirt. I have spoken to him about it so many times, but he won't chuck it out. He's had it since he was about twelve, and it's faded and even torn, and he does look pretty ripped in it, but I keep trying to tell him that when gay men think of piano players they're thinking of Liberace.

"God, you're a philistine, Bella," he says. "The sort of man I want will know perfectly well who Claude Debussy is."

He's sitting with a couple of guys, holding court, acting gayer the way he does. He's such a flirt, it's a wonder he hasn't been bent over some hard surface and given what for any number of times. He always leaves parties and bars with several sets of eyes gazing lustfully or longingly after him, because he's gorgeous as well as smart, and very funny too. It's a testament to his belief in true love that he's still got his V-card.

He leaps up when he sees me, with a very unmanly squeal, and picks me up and swings me round. I get a look at his companions, and I can see straightaway why he sent me that text. OMG. As soon as he puts me down I fall over again and Eduardo helps me up.

"Look at my new friends," he smirks. "Aren't they nice?"

"Are you from some kind of club?" I demand, gawping at them with my mouth open. They're both big. They're copper-skinned and black haired. They're ridiculously handsome, and they're the kind of DB Eduardo and I have been exchanging daydreams about for years. I wonder which one of them he's got his eye on.

"A club? Sort of, you could say that," one of them says. He introduces himself as Jacob, and if it were possible for one of them to be better looking than the other, he might just have an edge.

"Oooh, can I join? Or do members have to look like you?" Eduardo simpers.

"They have to look like us," the other of them says, not unkindly.

"Could I just come to a couple of meetings then, and be a supporter? Is there a ritual handshake? I'm perfectly willing to learn. I've got a ritual handshake of my own, actually. Come out back, I'll show you," my disgraceful best friend carries on. I suspect he got one look at the twin muscleload of pulchritude and started nervously gulping way too much beer. Luckily, they seem to find him funny. You couldn't not, because he's just so sweet, even when he's embarrassing himself.

"Dude, who's the band on your t-shirt?" the guy who had been introduced as Sam asks. "Debussy?" He pronounces it to rhyme with 'fussy'. "Don't think I've heard of them."

Edward splutters noisily. "De_buss_y..." he begins, and I know from his tone that he's about to embark on one of the mind-enriching lectures he generously delivers to me so often, "was a highly influential impressionist composer of the later nineteenth century..."

I interrupt. "Eduardo, due to the passage of time, we are now in the current era, specifically the twenty-first century. May I introduce you to the year 2009?"

"Isabella, thank you for bringing that to my attention. Now may I introduce you to two startling concepts you really need to know about: class and taste? Significant events did take place before you were born you know."

Just as I'm about to retort, Jacob comments, "Like the invention of baseball, for instance."

"You play baseball?" Eduardo gasps. "I bet you're a really hard hitter."

Jacob laughs. "When necessary," he says, and Edward winks, and then the three of us, Jacob, Eduardo and me embark on a jokey, silly conversation that goes all over the place, with Edward being smutty for all he's worth, me rolling my eyes, and Jacob taking everything in his stride. He's got a comeback for Eduardo every time, and the three of us get on really well. Sam's a lot quieter, although he joins in from time to time.

After a while I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, wondering if while I'm away, Edward will cut back on the innuendoes and develop some suave.

When I come back I see he hasn't, though things seem to be progressing well enough until he goes to put an arm around me and falls off his stool. I don't know how much beer he's had, but it's too much. Jacob gets up straight away and lifts him easily, even though my Eduardo is a big boy.

"Uh, I think it's time we went home," I said to no-one in particular. Jacob slings poor Edward's arm over his shoulder and he wraps his arm around Edward's waist.

"Where to, ma'am?" he asks me.

"Just out front, please. We'll get a cab," I answer, and he half-hauls Edward, who is just capable of a drunken lurch and not much more, to the front.

Luckily, I hail a cab quickly, and Jacob folds Edward up and puts him in the back seat.

"You're never going to get him inside his own front door. He'll need carrying - I'd better come with you," he offers, to my surprise.

"He might be sick on you," I warn, but Eduardo perks up a little now that he's out of the bar, and he starts to sing.

"_You're just to good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you_," he croons to Jacob, who doesn't know whether to be appalled or laugh his head off.

"_You'd feel like heaven to touch, oh how I want you so much_," Edward continues, and he has a lovely jazzy tenor voice. Apart from the fact that he could vomit any second, he's doing great.

Jacob and I are sitting on either side of him, our glances meeting often, and we're both grinning at what a dickhead Eduardo is being. Just as he draws breath for the chorus, it's time to get out. Jacob helps him cross the street with Eduardo yelling "_I love you baby_," at the top of his lungs.

Inside, we get him onto his bed and I pull his shoes off, and then I leave him there, promising to be back in a minute.

"Thanks for your help tonight. I couldn't have managed without you," I tell Jacob.

"No problem," he shrugs, looking around. Edward's beloved piano dominates the living room, and his hundred million cd's and his hundred million books. Everything is very tidy, because he is the queen of domesticity. He will make some lucky guy a great wife.

"Hey, isn't this a one-bedroom apartment?" Jacob asks suddenly, looking confused. "Where do _you_ sleep?"

"With Edward," I answer.

Jacob has a look on his face I'm trying to decipher. Surprise, and disappointment?

"But isn't Edward - gay?" he asks.

"Yes, yes, completely - he and I don't actually sleep together, well, I mean we do sleep together, but not in that way, we _really_ sleep, in a best friends kind of a way..." I say, sounding pretty lame and probably not totally convincing. I hope I haven't just blown Edward's chances, if he hadn't already managed to blow them himself with the pontificating, the shameless flirting and then the intoxicated serenading.

"I see," Jacob says doubtfully, not looking as though he does. "Well, I'll be getting along then," he continues, and I show him out.

"Edward's really gay. He's gay_er_," I say helpfully.

"Good to know," Jacob says over his shoulder.

The next morning I wake up with Eduardo's arm around me and his erect dick sticking into my thigh.

"Get away from me you weirdo!" I grumble, shoving him.

"I was having the best dream... Where's Jacob? Did he go home? He didn't want to stick around for a good time?" he sniffs, rolling over.

"God, Edward, you were so drunk you wouldn't have known a good time if one had smacked you on the ass," I say, smacking his hip, which is all I can reach.

"Baby, that would feel so good if only you had a man's hand," Edward sighs. "Couldn't you man up for me? I guess not. So what did you think of the DB's? Weren't they just so alpha? Imagine how _masterful_ they must be! Who was your favorite? What did you think of Jacob?"

"He's definitely your type!"

"But what did _you_ think of him?"

"He's sort of beautiful - no, he's definitely beautiful. Obviously funny and sharp. Seems really nice. And he helped me get you home so he must have liked you. Unfortunately that would indicate he's probably insane."

Edward laughs and kisses my forehead and gets up. He brings me coffee and toast in bed, and then complains because of the crumbs and says he'll have to strip the sheets and wash them, and he's playing classical music at a decibel level that's like a plane taking off, and I tell him I'm leaving.

I've just finished all my own domestic goddess duties when my phone beeps with a message. It's from Eduardo.

"Get2me asap. HE's here!"

This already came through last night, so I guess there's some sort of hiccup in the network, and messages are getting re-sent. I ignore it.

Ten minutes later it comes through again. Even though Edward's probably got nothing to do with it, I think I'll call him to clarify things.

"Edward, there's something going funny going on with the messaging system - " I begin.

"You're dropping by right now? Lovely darling. I'll see you in a couple of minutes," he smirks, I can actually _hear_ the look on his face, and he hangs up. I have no idea what's going on, but he only lives a block away, and I wasn't doing anything, so I go round.

To my utter amazement, Jacob opens the door.

"Huh?" I say, and he smiles. "Eddie had to pop out, but come on in," he grins. Weird. He offers me a drink.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," I say, wondering at the nerve of him, playing host in _my_ best friend's apartment! "How long is Edward going to be?"

"He didn't actually say," Jacob answered.

This is very strange. Jacob has come to visit Edward, which is obviously a very good sign, and Edward has mysteriously gone out, which is a sign I can't interpret at all. Unless he's gone to get beer, maybe thinking that Jacob likes him when he's drunk? What sort of Eduardish logic is that?

I sit on the couch with the remote and start to flip through channels, because I don't know what else to do. Jacob sits next to me, waiting for his princess to return.

There's an Almodovar movie on, and when Eduardo and I watch subtitled films, we do this thing where we each take on characters and read the subtitles out in funny accents and laugh until we're clutching our guts and our faces hurt. I'm so used to it that without stopping to think, I read out some dialogue. Jacob catches on like a flash, and reads some out too. Pretty soon we're chuckling, and after a few minutes it's all-out hilarity. We're putting on accents and hamming it up, and we keep it up for a good half an hour.

"That was fun," I sigh helplessly to Jacob when the film finishes. My cheeks are sore from laughing so much. I've kicked off my sneakers, with the laces still tied of course, and pulled my feet up and I'm sitting cross-legged with one knee resting against his thigh. I would never, ever behave this way with a straight guy, but you know you're fine with gay men - they're never going to try and grope you, or go for your mouth.

"How about something to eat? I don't know about you, but I'm always hungry. Edward said to make myself at home... shall I fix us something?" he asks.

"Sure, if he's going to ask me round and then go out before I get here, he can expect us to go through his fridge like a plague of locusts," I nod.

Being Eduardo's, the available food is all ritzy, but Jacob obviously knows his way around a kitchen because within about fifteen minutes he produces linguine in a smoked salmon and dill cream sauce. I gain a few pounds eating it, and end up leaning against him again while I go into digestion mode.

"Ah, can I make you more comfortable, would you like a cushion?" he asks, wedging one in behind my shoulder.

"That food was delicious. You're nice," I tell him, still recovering.

"So are you," he says. "Tell me Bella, what do you go for in a guy?"

I consider very seriously. "I like someone who can pull off a good Spanish accent, who can cook pasta and whose chief concern is to ensure my comfort. You'd be perfect for me if you weren't gay."

"I'm not," he says.

I was feeling boneless and relaxed after so much laughing and eating, but I recover the use of my muscles _fast_, and leap off the couch.

"What?" I yelp at him, rubbing my leg where I can still feel the heat of his.

"I'm not gay," he repeats, grinning.

I start to walk backwards away from him, and I trip over my shoes and sprawl on the floor. He comes to my aid immediately, and I scowl, "Go away, you - you - _masquerader_!" I don't know what to call him.

"Masquerader?" he asks, looking genuinely puzzled. "What have I been masquerading as?

"Someone funny who can cook and who's great company..."

"None of those things have anything to do with sexual orientation. You could examine some of your preconceptions," he tells me.

"Wait a minute," I say then, as my brain ticks over very slowly. "If you're not gay, why did you come here looking for Eduardo?"

"I didn't," he answers. "I came here looking for you."

Before I begin to explode, I manage to ask one more question. "Does Edward know that?"

He nods.

Ohmigod. Eduardo set me up.

Where the fuck is he? Does he have any idea what's going on? I'm going to kill him. I will punch him in the mouth so hard he will wear a beard and mustache of his own blood. He left me here alone with a heterosexual man on purpose! No, no, no. Although just quietly, haven't I been having a great time with Jacob? And even more quietly, isn't he my DB?

"I have to go to the bathroom," I hiss to Jacob. "I'll be a few minutes. Maybe even a few hours."

I dash to Eduardo's bathroom, shutting the door, and then I stand in the tub and pull the shower curtain around me, for extra sound insulation. Grimly, I dial Eduardo.

"Daaarling!" he trills. "How's it all going?"

"Don't you 'darling' me! What are you playing at?" I growl. "Did you know Jacob isn't gay?"

"Well, duh! Of course he isn't," he drawls.

"Did you know last night?"

"Hello, _yes_. He didn't set off my gay-dar."

"What's he doing here?"

"He didn't get your number, and he came round this afternoon to ask about you."

"Well, where the hell are you, and what are you doing and when are you coming back and what am I supposed to do now?" I whine.

"I'm at the bar, I'm with Sam, and he's just about to show me the ritual handshake. I don't know when I'll be back. And you should do whatever you want," he answers. He actually sounds quite happy. Sam? Hmm.

"But what am I supposed to do with Jacob?" I ask desperately.

"Um, let me think. What was it you said about him this morning?" evil Edward asks.

"I don't remember," I lied.

"Yes, you do," Edward prompts.

"I may have said he's sort of beautiful," I admit.

"And then?"

"I might have said he's _definitely_ beautiful, and then something about funny and sharp... but I _really_ don't remember," I add.

"Well, my Bella, I really must go. Can't give you any more hints I'm afraid. Bye now," he sings, and he hangs up.

I climb out of the bath and go to the door, and as I open it Jacob is standing there, his hand raised as if to knock.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," he says, with a very wide grin. He couldn't have heard me. He must have heard me. I blush all thirteen shades of red and push past him.

"I'm going now. I have a man to kill," I mutter.

"Maybe you do, but he's kind of on a date with my best friend. Could you put off the killing until afterwards?" Jacob asked.

"A _date_?" I ask. "This has all been _arranged_?"

"This what?" Jacob says, looking innocent.

"You and me here, and Eduardo and Sam at the bar..."

He shrugs expressively. I'm going after Edward, and I want blood.

Jacob runs out the door after me. "This will be gatecrashing you now," he says.

"Precisely," I say, and I hail a cab and sit in it fuming.

"Were you only pretend-laughing while we were watching the movie?" Jacob asks, next to me.

"No," I admit.

"What about when you said I'm nice? Didn't you mean it?" he persists.

"Well, you do seem quite nice," I mumble.

"What about what you said in the bathroom?" he asks.

We're at the stupid bar now and I hand the driver ten dollars as I get out. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say. "And you shouldn't listen to private conversations. What's wrong with you?"

"You tell me. Last I heard I was sharp and funny and sort of beautiful," Jacob grins. His grin is _gorgeous_.

"Stop it, I'm not having a good time, I'm very cross..." I spit out.

"You know you're turning this into a double date by bringing me here," he says.

"I am not!" I say. "Anyway, I'm sorry to tell you but Sam and Eduardo will never work out, because Sam hasn't heard of Debussy..."

Jacob clears his throat. Sam and Eduardo are at a table right in front of us, and I can hear them talking. Eduardo, as could be expected, is crapping on about something called tonality in his pompous way, but to my amazement, Sam nods and mentions modal atmosphere. Then he actually says something about symphonic form, whatever the hell that is, and I can see Eduardo swaying in his chair, about to faint.

"Sam's a closet classical music freak," Jacob says, with that lethal grin. "Date girl, how about we leave these two lovebirds to themselves and get a table for the two of us?"

"We are _not_ on a date!" I protest.

"Let's see - a movie, a meal, and now we're at a bar together. I'd say that's a date," he says.

Somebody needs to set him straight. It might as well be me.

"Let me explain something to you. A date is when person A asks person B to go out with them, and everything is very clear cut and both parties know exactly what's going on. _Ambushing_ is not date behavior," I state.

"Is that so?" he asks, and signals a waiter to get us drinks.

"I'll show you," I offer, rummaging in my bag for a pen, and I grab the nearest coaster. I draw four stick figures, and label them A,B,C, and D, and then I cross the letters out and change them to B,E,J and S so that it's easier to understand.

"Look," I say, and start drawing lines to show the connections between the figures. "E and B are best friends, J and S are best friends, E meets J and S and then calls B and she comes along and then all four of them hang out for a while, and then E and B go home to E's, and J goes along too, and I don't know what happens to S, and then J goes somewhere, presumably home, and then the next morning B goes home, then she gets a message from E, and then..." there are already rather a lot of lines on that one little coaster.

"You've lost me," Jacob says, frowning and laughing at the same time.

I draw some more lines just to show how complicated it all is.

"And dates involve kissing," I add. "Do you want another diagram?"

"Sure," he says, looking interested.

I grab another coaster and draw two circles and I do two dots on each one to represent eyes and a triangle for a nose, and a curved line for a mouth. They are passable renditions of faces, sort of like a Picasso. Then I fold it down the middle and bring the two sides together so that the circles are pressed up against one another.

"See?" I say triumphantly. "So that's why we are _not_ on a date!"

"Thank you. That was most informative. Now that everything has been made completely clear, would you like to go out with me next weekend? Just J and B? No E and S?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it. I'm wary of ambushers as a rule," I say.

From this uncertain start we progress to chatting and laughing, and it's the best non-date I've ever had, I have to admit. Eduardo slinks past at some point, blowing me a kiss, and he's leaving with Sam, and I have to nod because it's okay that he goes. Jacob and I stay on for another hour, getting on so well it seems neither of us want to leave. But I've got work in the morning, and eventually I say I'd better make a move.

"I'll see you home," he says, and we share a cab back to my place and he tells the driver to wait.

"Did you decide about next weekend yet?" he asks, and under the streetlights he's dark and serious and gorgeous and very, very DBish.

"What was on offer again? Food and a movie?" I say.

He pulls something out of his pocket. It's the folded up coaster with the diagram - the second one. "This too, I believe," he says solemnly.

"You kept that?" I gulp.

"For future reference," he nodded. "And, I can write your number on it."

I tell him my number, and he's lingering, and I get a bit nervous. I decide to go inside right away. "Call me, we can arrange something," I say over my shoulder, and I can hear him chuckle.

Eduardo's on my couch, waiting for me. I gave him a key ages ago.

"Darling girl, come and cuddle me," he says, arms out. I go and curl up with him.

"How are things?" I ask, my cheek against his chest.

"Very nice. I'm going to be seeing Sam again. A lot, I hope. How are things with you?"

"Pretty good. I was really mad when I realized you'd set me up though. Don't _ever _do it again," I say drowsily, tickling his ear with one hand. He has a sensitive spot there - and I guess Sam will find it soon.

"If I've done it right this time, I won't need to do it again," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "It's time you found someone who'll appreciate your boobies."

"Do you think things will change between you and me if we've both got boyfriends?" I ask. He pushes me off him and takes my cheeks in his hands, his beautiful green eyes close to my brown ones.

"Honestly? I don't think we'll be sleeping together so much, darling, but other than that, nope. I love you. Best friends always," he says and he kisses my mouth for the first time, softly. I understand that it will be the last time, too.

"I love you, too. Best friends always," I nod.

.

.

.

Forgive me! This way Bella gets Edward _and_ Jacob! Everyone's happy!

Song lyrics by Frankie Valli.


End file.
